


Dead End

by lachatblanche



Series: Dollhouse AU [36]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Character Death, Consent Issues, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and the others finally come face to face with Sebastian Shaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead End

Erik found the barrel of a gun pressed sharply between his ribs and, coming back to himself, he realised with a jolt of surprise that he appeared to have surged forward with a snarl the moment that he had identified the man standing in front of them. Judging from the savage noises that both Raven and Logan were making he hadn’t been alone in doing so.

Shaw, unfortunately, didn’t seem to be all that concerned about the violent anger that was being aimed in his direction. Instead, he turned to look at the group assembled before him with a look of deeply indulgent paternalism that made Erik itch to put a bullet between his eyes.

‘Hello there!’ Shaw said cheerfully, nodding and beaming at them as if they were all old acquaintances of his. ‘It is so good of you to take time out of your busy schedules to join me here. I know how busy you all are.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I know how busy you all have _been_.’ He gazed down the line of angry, scared faces pointed in his direction and his look of reproach quickly morphed into a sly and triumphant smirk that he made no attempt to hide from them. Then his eyes abruptly came to rest on Charles and his expression immediately altered. Erik felt a violent surge of nausea at the flare of greed and desire that flickered across Shaw’s otherwise cold and calculating eyes.

‘Charlie!’ Shaw grinned broadly, his lips pulling up into a greedy, lascivious smile. ‘There you are, pet! How about you come over here and join me, kitten?’ Shaw raised an arm and beckoned Charles over.

But Charles didn’t move. Out of the corner of his eye Erik saw Logan and Moira share a strained glance.

‘Charles!’ Shaw barked again, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘I said come _here_.’

Something flickered across Charles’s face but still he didn’t move. 

Erik felt a flare of panic at the sudden dark expression that crossed Shaw’s face and he threw Logan an urgent look, hoping that he would intervene before Shaw did something to hurt Charles. Before Logan could respond, however, Emma Frost began to speak.

‘He will not respond to you,’ she said in a bored tone, her eyes on her nails and her posture betraying nothing but complete indifference to the matter at hand. When Shaw’s head swivelled towards her she continued. ‘He has not been Programmed to. In high-pressure situations like this,’ here Frost glanced up from her nails and her eyes lingered on the gun-wielding guards and the tense expressions on the faces of everyone around her, ‘our Actives will respond only to their Handlers. Which, in this case, is him,’ she jerked her head towards Logan, who immediately stopped cursing under his breath and stood up straighter, his expression fierce.

‘Hmm,’ Shaw didn’t sound too pleased about that. ‘I see. Nevertheless …’ he turned his head to face Victor Creed, who was at his side in an instant. ‘Go and bring Charlie over here,’ he ordered, idly watching Logan’s features twist into a mask of intense loathing. ‘Immediately, please.’

Creed ducked his head in a nod and immediately walked over towards Charles.

‘Don’t you touch him, Creed,’ Logan snarled, and Erik could see that he now had two guards pressing their guns against his chest. ‘You touch one hair on his head and I swear I’ll _rip_ your fucking head off-’

But Creed just smirked at him as he passed, heading over towards Charles. Erik’s jaw was clenched as he approached but Creed was surprisingly gentle as he took hold of Charles’s arm and pulled him along, leading him over to Shaw as docile as a little lamb. That did not stop Logan from viciously cursing Creed, however, and the look on his face was nothing short of murderous as he watched Creed deliver his Active over into Shaw’s greedy hands.

Erik had to look away upon seeing the smile on Shaw’s face then, unable to bear the sight of his almost indecent satisfaction as he once again laid hands on Charles. His blood was boiling in his veins and he wanted to rage out loud but Erik knew that it wouldn’t be of any use: he was, for all intents and purposes, impotent. Shaw held all the cards and all that he and the others could do now was wait.

‘Now then,’ came Shaw’s voice and Erik risked glancing up again. Shaw’s right arm was now tucked firmly around Charles’s waist but his focus was once more on Erik and the others. From the disgusted expressions on the others’ faces, however – not to mention the delicate wrinkling of Emma Frost’s nose – Erik could tell that he had only just managed to miss Shaw’s overly-tactile reunion with Charles. ‘What shall we do with _you_ five little meddlers?’

Nobody spoke. They all just stared back at Shaw, their expressions mutinous.

Shaw let out a disappointed sigh. ‘Well, I suppose that the question _was_ rhetorical in your cases,’ he admitted, raising his shoulder in a half-shrug. He turned his head to the right, brushing a vague kiss on Charles’s head as he did so. ‘Emma?’ he asked lightly, all genteel politeness. ‘What about you, my dear? Do you have anything to say to our little troop of interlopers?’

Emma raised her eyes from the ice-white wall opposite them, her thoughts obviously having been focused on something completely different. She allowed her eyes to drift slowly over from Shaw to Charles and then onto Erik, Logan and the others.

‘Yes,’ she said at last, slowly moving out of her statue-like pose and taking a step forward. ‘Yes, I do have a few things to say.’ Her eyes raked coldly over the five of them, and her eyes narrowed. ‘I am very disappointed in you,’ she said, and although she had not raised her voice it was clear that her tone was icy, ‘In _all_ of you.’ Hank let out something akin to a whimper and stared down at his toes, looking genuinely mortified. Emma’s eyes hovered on him for a moment before she turned away, only for her gaze to fall on Logan, at which her expression turned even frostier. ‘Especially you, Mr. Howlett,’ she said coldly, her lip curling. ‘I expected better from you. _Much_ better.’ 

There was a pause. Logan was defiantly meeting Emma’s stare but Erik had seen him grimace at her words, apparently thrown off by the disappointment in Frost’s tone.

‘Then again,’ Frost resumed, letting out a sigh and allowing her gaze to drift away from them, ‘I don’t know why I am so surprised, considering that you would do almost anything for your Active. The others, however …’ She shook her head with something akin to wonder. ‘It seems that Charles here has a knack of fostering … _attachments_ in others,’ she raised an eyebrow in inquiry as she looked around at them. With a jolt Erik realised that, except for perhaps Hank, every single one of them was there in some capacity because of Charles. Emma sighed and shook her head. ‘I really ought to have got rid of him from the first,’ she mused, looking thoughtful. ‘The boy has been a great deal more trouble that he’s worth, when you think about it. We really would have been much better off without him.’

‘It’s a good thing that it wasn’t your call then, isn’t it, my dear?’ Shaw interrupted, stepping forward and patting Frost’s shoulder in a manner that absolutely no one could fail to find condescending. ‘Although I must confess myself surprised at your indifference to him, considering how perceptive you usually are. Far be it for me to cast aspersions on your normally impeccable taste … but perhaps this time you have missed something, hmm?’

Emma’s expression had shuttered at Shaw’s interjection and Erik was sure that she was having difficulty biting back a scowl. When she turned to answer Shaw, however, her face was once again a mask of perfect blankness.

‘Charles is an Active like any other in my House,’ she said coolly, delicately extricating herself from Shaw’s touch with only the barest wrinkling of her nose. ‘I am sure he is a _delightful_ companion –’ her tone gained at touch of dryness, ‘but as far as I am concerned, he holds the same sort of appeal that all my Actives do. Besides,’ and her voice held a definite spark of disdain now although it was seamlessly hidden behind a veil of pure indifference, ‘ _I_ happen to prefer my partners _conscious_ and _willing_ … which, I grant you, seems to be a rather unusual foible for a person in this industry.’

There was an uneasy stirring among the guards at that but Shaw seemed to be more amused than irritated by her words.

‘You may be blind to Mr. Xavier’s charms, my dear,’ he chuckled, reaching out and patting her shoulder once again – and the action was just as patronising as it had been the first time around, ‘but believe me – I have sampled them, and they are many.’ There was a noise of choked-off outrage from Raven and Erik was sure that had he, Raven and Logan not had multiple guns pointed at their chests then numerous heads would have rolled in that moment. 

Shaw seemed to be all too aware of that as well, for he grinned around at them all and clutched Charles even closer to him, squeezing his waist tightly as he did so.

‘What was that?’ he asked solicitously, acting as if he was a gracious host at a tea party. ‘I’m afraid that I missed that. Did someone say something?’

‘Yeah,’ Raven spat out, unable to contain yourself, ‘I said that you’re a sick, sadistic _fuck_ and that I’m going to fucking take a _hatchet_ to your fu-uuumph!’ she let out a muffled noise of pain when one of the guards rammed her in the stomach with the butt of his gun. 

Erik winced in sympathy. He knew from personal experience just how painful that could be.

‘Like I said,’ Shaw continued smoothly as if Raven had not said anything. ‘Does anyone have anything to say?’

Logan looked like he was seriously considering saying something but a wary glance at Raven seemed to make him think better of it. Erik was surprised. Logan was clearly smarter than he had given him credit for.

‘Well,’ Shaw remarked, looking between them all with a smile, ‘If there’s nothing else then I won’t keep you from your collective appointments with the Attic … Farewell, all!’ He smiled widely at them before tightening his grip on Charles and making to leave.

‘Just a minute, Sebastian.’ 

Emma’s voice was cool and unperturbed but it still seemed to startle everyone in the room, unexpected as it was. Shaw frowned, undoubtedly irritated by the interruption, but he nevertheless turned to face Frost, his expression genial.

‘Yes, my dear?’ he asked, and Erik was unwillingly impressed by the number of shiny white teeth that Shaw managed to show.

Emma was watching Shaw closely, her gaze clear and focused.

‘I think you’re forgetting something, Sebastian,’ she said coolly, folding her arms and arching her eyebrow at him. ‘Don’t you?’

There was definitely a flicker of irritation on Shaw’s face now.

‘Oh?’ he asked, and gone was the oily smoothness of before. Erik noted with some concern the way that Shaw’s fingers were gripped painfully tight around Charles’s arm. ‘I hadn’t realised. Please do share, my dear.’

Emma’s eyebrow was still raised in scepticism as she nodded calmly at Charles.

‘Him,’ she said, and though her tone was light there was an undercurrent of steel in it. ‘Charles. He has not been Programmed yet,’ Her eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘You _do_ remember that he needs to be Programmed, don’t you, Sebastian? Or were you just intending on walking out of here with my Active in his current neutralised state?’

There was a choked off noise from Raven and Erik could see that Moira’s face had suddenly gone white – though with shock or fury, Erik could not tell. He frowned, uncomprehending. Then he played over what it was that Emma had said and he immediately felt the blood leave his face. Was – was Frost insinuating – 

There was another rustle of uneasiness from the armed guards surrounding them as they shuffled from foot to foot.

Shaw’s expression had darkened and he was now gazing at Emma with a muted anger, his face stony and hard. Upon noticing the attention from the others, however, he made a visible effort to change his expression into something more open and relaxed.

‘… Obviously not,’ he said after a moment, trying to inject some of his previous good-humour into his words despite the fact that he was fooling absolutely no one. ‘Naturally I wouldn’t. I simply … forgot. Obviously he will have to be Programmed before we can start – ah – fraternising.’

‘Hmm,’ Emma looked unimpressed. ‘Yes. Obviously.’

Shaw frowned at her tone, the marks of frustration slowly becoming visible on his face. ‘Well get on with it then!’ he said sharply, snapping when Emma didn’t do anything more than stare at him.

Emma’s eyebrow twitched upwards minutely but otherwise her expression remained completely flat. ‘My Programmer is in your line-up,’ she said in a deliberately slow voice. ‘How am I supposed to get anything done with my Programmer being threatened with the Attic?’

Erik’s forehead creased and he allowed his gaze to roam between Emma and Shaw. Whatever her faults were – and Erik was sure that they were many – Frost seemed to take her position as the head of the Dollhouse seriously. The woman had guts, he thought reluctantly, to be able to stand up to Shaw like that. And she couldn’t have been very happy to see her people all lined up in a neat little row destined for the Attic, either. Erik hoped that – if she deigned to exert her influence in such a way – Frost’s interference would at least save McCoy; he hadn’t exactly been a willing participant, after all, and as much as Erik disliked what it was that he did, McCoy didn’t seem to be a bad sort. Maybe, if they were lucky, MacTaggart would be spared as well. He, Logan and Raven may not get such leniency, he supposed, but McCoy and MacTaggart deserved to get out of this without getting their brains fried. At least then there would be _someone_ left in the House to look out for Charles …

Erik’s train of thought was interrupted by Shaw’s sudden exclamation of disgust.

‘Fine!’ he barked, and glared at them all. ‘Fine. You,’ he turned his impatient glare on Creed, who immediately jumped to attention. ‘Bring me the Programmer.’ He tightened his grip on Charles’s arm before suddenly releasing it, causing Charles to totter slightly. ‘We’ll get this over and done with right now.’

‘Erm-’ Hank looked alarmed at suddenly being ushered towards Shaw by Creed’s encouraging grip on his shoulder. ‘I – this isn’t – I can’t work like this!’ he sputtered, flailing slightly as he was pushed towards Charles. ‘I – oops – sorry, Charles.’ His hand came to rest on Charles’s forearm.

Charles, however, smiled softly at him and slowly slid his hand into Hank’s, causing him to blink owlishly in surprise.

Frost, meanwhile, was looking highly unimpressed with McCoy’s protests.

‘And what is preventing you from doing your job in this case, Mr. McCoy?’ she asked him, sounding bored. ‘I assure you, you need not fear the Attic.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I doubt you had very much to do with today’s case of trespass and minor rebellion,’ she said, eyeing him unblinkingly. ‘You – well. You’re not really the sort, are you?’

Hank flushed bright red at that and looked away, suddenly unable to meet anyone’s eyes. At this, however, Erik saw Charles give McCoy’s hand a small squeeze as if in encouragement and Hank, seeming to gain some sort of courage from this, raised his head and finally looked straight at Emma. 

‘Logan,’ he said and seemed startled at the strength and clarity of his own voice. ‘I mean – Howlett. I need Mr. Howlett with me. He’s Charles’s Handler,’ he said hurriedly at Shaw’s raised eyebrow. ‘I need him there with me when I load Charles’s Program and calibrate him so that-’

‘Yes, yes,’ Shaw waved his hand impatiently, having received a nod of assurance from Emma. ‘Do whatever you need to do. Just get Charlie back to me _immediately_.’ He took a deep breath and his entire body seemed to vibrate with impatience. ‘I have plans for him and I have waited _far_ too long already.’

The words were ominous and this time Erik saw that it was Hank who squeezed Charles’s hand in support despite the fact that there was no way that Charles understood what was going on.

‘Should we release Howlett then, sir?’ Creed asked with almost sycophantic eagerness, awaiting Shaw’s response. Erik saw Emma frown, her white little nose crinkling in minor irritation.

‘Yes,’ Shaw nodded, eyeing Logan speculatively. ‘Bring him along to the Programming room with the others. And hold on to him – we don’t want him delaying us any further.’

Creed nodded. He paused then, biting his lip and looking between Logan and Hank. His face settling into a grimace, he finally turned to face McCoy.

‘Come on, you,’ he grunted, seizing McCoy by the shoulder and dragging him over. As Charles’s hand was still in Hank’s he was pulled along too. ‘Don’t think that I won’t hurt you because you’re the Programming guy,’ Creed growled, approaching Logan warily. ‘If you even _think_ about doing anyth-’ Charles abruptly came to a halt and, linked as he was to Hank, caused Hank to stumble which in turn caused Creed to cut his sentence off and jerk back in surprise.

All it took was that one millisecond. Before Creed could recover, Logan had lunged forward like a jungle cat, wrapped his thick muscled arms around Creed’s neck and, letting out a roar like a wounded beast, violently wrenched it around with all his might.

There was a sickening _crack_ and then a loud thump as Victor Creed’s mountainous body crumpled to the floor, his eyes unseeing and his head lying at a very odd angle.

There was silence. Nobody moved. The guards, who had initially been distracted by Charles’s sudden stop, were now staring at the dead body of their leader, stunned. Even as they all stood frozen, Logan darted sideways, twisted the gun out of the nearest guardsman’s limp hold and, before anyone could react, had let out a burst of gunfire, cutting down the armed men on either side of him.

Erik didn’t waste time. He immediately swung out at the man on his right and, catching him with a fist to his nose, immediately turned and tackled the man on his left, bowling him over and following him before he could recover. Out of the corner of his eye, Erik could see Raven and Moira do the same. Raven, of course, was at her most vicious, dangerous best and Moira was clearly no slouch in the combat department either, the military training clear in every line of her body. Erik took one more moment to ensure that Charles was safe – Hank had dragged him back and away from the fighting – before he went back to pummelling the unfortunate man beneath him with a grim sort of satisfaction that, he suspected, did not become an officer of the law.

Erik would later admit – and the others would back him up on this – that those few minutes of violence were a complete blur inside his head. It was as if they had all been possessed by some sort of desperation-filled mania borne out of their hatred for Shaw and the primal need to survive. It was because of this, they all agreed, that they completely lost sight of the main target.

That target namely being Charles.

Erik didn’t know what he had been thinking. He had seen Hank drag Charles away from the fight and that had been all the reassurance he had needed before he had returned to brawling with his enemies. Logan, Moira and Raven had, presumably, done the same.

What he couldn’t figure out, however, was what the hell the four of them were thinking in forgetting about Shaw and Frost.

They had all targeted the people nearest to them, which meant that it was the guardsmen who were on the receiving ends of their fists and bullets. For some reason, none of them had considered going for the main people at the head of this whole mess: Sebastian Shaw and Emma Frost. By the time that they had come back to themselves it was already too late.

Hank was flat on his back, blinking dazedly up at the ceiling with a long trail of bright red blood pooling under his nose.

Charles, on the other hand, was being pressed back-to-chest against Shaw’s front with Shaw’s left arm around him and the other –

Erik froze.

Shaw’s other hand held a deadly black pistol, the barrel of which was currently being pressed right up against Charles’s throat.

All Erik could hear was the sound of his heart thundering in his chest and at first he thought that it was due to shock. It was only then, glancing around, that he realised that he wasn’t the only one to have finally cottoned on to the situation. Raven, Moira and Logan had all finally stopped, each surrounded by the bodies of their former guards, all of them now out cold or – as indicated by the fountains of blood surrounding Raven – dead. It seemed that all four of them had realised their error at the same time and Raven had finally paused in her act of destruction only to let out a cry of anguish at seeing her brother held with a gun pressed to his skin.

Shaw, seeing that he had finally got their attention, gave them a slow, sickly smile. Emma, who was standing a few paces off from him, didn’t even twitch when the combined weight of their gazes fell upon her. As far as Erik could tell the woman had not moved an inch during the entire melee. She just stood there, cool as a cucumber, taking it all in as if she were merely an observer of the scene in front of her and not a participant.

‘So,’ Shaw said, and his voice was almost as unctuous as it had been before. ‘It seems that we have come to a bit of an impasse.’ He looked around at the bodies before him. ‘I shall, of course, have to invest in a better set of bodyguards in the future.’ He shrugged. ‘But I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I do, after all, hold the trump card.’ At this he squeezed Charles with his arm, causing Charles’s breath to hitch. ‘Ah,’ Shaw sighed, leaning his forehead against Charles’s hair, ‘isn’t that just the sweetest sound? I’ll be hearing a lot more of that, I should think.’

‘Like hell!’ Raven spat, bristling with anger. The way her eyes darted anxiously over Charles, however, showed that she would probably not do anything too hasty, which Erik was relieved about.

‘Very eloquently put, my dear,’ Shaw cooed, taking a small step back. ‘But I am afraid that I will have to disagree. Don’t worry,’ he said reassuringly as she bared her teeth at him in fury, ‘I have no doubt that we will be able to catch up soon. There’s a space in the Attic with your name on it, you know.’ He then turned to Emma. ‘Are you coming, my dear? I’m sure you’re far too smart to risk your chances with _these_ heathens.’

Emma’s expression tightened. She didn’t say anything but her eyes trailed slowly over the taut expressions of the others in the room. Then, with a sigh, she slowly began to follow Shaw, her expression one of wearied resignation. 

Shaw beamed at her.

‘Excellent,’ he said with a deep sense of satisfaction. ‘I knew you would see sense.’ He moved towards her, tugging Charles along as he did. ‘Here,’ he said, before unceremoniously shoving Charles at her. ‘Much as I enjoy having him pressed up against me there is time enough for that later, wouldn’t you say? Now, you hold him while I make a quick telephone call.’ With that Shaw took a step away, his left hand reaching in his pocket while the other still held the gun, although now it was pointed straight ahead of him, as if daring any of the others to make the first move.

Erik gritted his teeth. He didn’t know what to do. If he moved then he risked getting shot. While he didn’t mind that so much, what he couldn’t risk was Shaw suddenly turning the gun on Charles, which, by the way he was holding the gun, seemed entirely too possible. The others seemed to be sharing the same dilemma as there were identical looks of fear and frustration on their faces. Shaw had been right: they were indeed at an impasse.

In near despair, Erik turned to look at Charles, as if in hopes that his face would give him some sort of inspiration. And then he frowned.

Charles was being held in Emma’s grip which, while relatively gentle, was nevertheless firm. But that was not what had caused Erik to pause. 

Charles was wriggling. Not too conspicuously, it was true, and not enough to dislodge her grip, but he was nevertheless wriggling in Emma’s hold, his usually blank face pulled into a small pucker of concentration. Erik found himself ignoring the call that Shaw was placing on his phone and instead focused on Charles. Charles, who was twisting and appeared to be reaching behind him …

Erik could tell the moment that Charles found what he was looking for, for his face once more smoothened out into its usual look of placid serenity. Emma, who was frowning deeply now, almost unconsciously loosened her grip, allowing Charles to pull his hands back to his front and then turn around.

Erik could not stop the gasp that escaped his lips.

In Charles’s hand was a gun. A gun that – how, Erik had no idea – he seemed to have had stashed somewhere on his body.

And, as Erik watched, unable to believe his eyes, Charles – now facing Emma, whose hands had fallen back against her sides – gave her a soft, shy smile and then slowly held out the gun.

Charles was giving Emma Frost a gun.

Wondering what kind of screwed up Doll-logic was going on in Charles’s pretty little head, Erik had all but decided that he was ready to be a martyr to his cause and go for Shaw’s gun when he saw the look on Emma’s face.

It was not an unusual look by any means. She was simply frowning, her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement as she slowly reached forward and took hold of the gun, bringing it up and weighing it in the palms of her hands. She stared down at the object in her grasp for a long time, her expression strange and quizzical. Then, ever so slowly, she began to look up. Her eyes met Charles’s.

Charles smiled at her, soft and gentle.

The perplexed expression slowly faded from Emma’s eyes. In its stead, a small, wry little smile appeared on her lips. It was a smile of resignation, a smile of acknowledgement.

A smile of acceptance. 

She sighed.

And then, before Erik had the barest chance of registering what was happening, Emma abruptly lifted the gun and, without the slightest flicker of hesitation, she fired.


End file.
